I was exhausted. The Professor saw
that my limbs were refusing to perform their office, and in spite of
his impatience he decided on stopping. He therefore spoke to the
hunter, who shook his head, saying:

"_Ofvanför._"

"It seems we must go higher," said my uncle.

Then he asked Hans for his reason.

"_Mistour,_" replied the guide.

"_Ja Mistour,_" said one of the Icelanders in a tone of alarm.

"What does that word mean?" I asked uneasily.

"Look!" said my uncle.

I looked down upon the plain. An immense column of pulverized pumice,
sand and dust was rising with a whirling circular motion like a
waterspout; the wind was lashing it on to that side of Snæfell where
we were holding on; this dense veil, hung across the sun, threw a
deep shadow over the mountain. If that huge revolving pillar sloped
down, it would involve us in its whirling eddies. This phenomenon,
which is not unfrequent when the wind blows from the glaciers, is
called in Icelandic 'mistour.'

"_Hastigt! hastigt!_" cried our guide.

Without knowing Danish I understood at once that we must follow Hans
at the top of our speed. He began to circle round the cone of the
crater, but in a diagonal direction so as to facilitate our progress.
Presently the dust storm fell upon the mountain, which quivered under
the shock; the loose stones, caught with the irresistible blasts of
wind, flew about in a perfect hail as in an eruption. Happily we were
on the opposite side, and sheltered from all harm. But for the
precaution of our guide, our mangled bodies, torn and pounded into
fragments, would have been carried afar like the ruins hurled along
by some unknown meteor.

Yet Hans did not think it prudent to spend the night upon the sides
of the cone. We continued our zigzag climb. The fifteen hundred
remaining feet took us five hours to clear; the circuitous route, the
diagonal and the counter marches, must have measured at least three
leagues. I could stand it no longer. I was yielding to the effects of
hunger and cold. The rarefied air scarcely gave play to the action of
my lungs.

At last, at eleven in the sunlight night, the summit of Snæfell was
reached, and before going in for shelter into the crater I had time
to observe the midnight sun, at his lowest point, gilding with his
pale rays the island that slept at my feet.

CHAPTER XVI.

BOLDLY DOWN THE CRATER

Supper was rapidly devoured, and the little company housed themselves
as best they could. The bed was hard, the shelter not very
substantial, and our position an anxious one, at five thousand feet
above the sea level. Yet I slept particularly well; it was one of the
best nights I had ever had, and I did not even dream.

Next morning we awoke half frozen by the sharp keen air, but with the
light of a splendid sun. I rose from my granite bed and went out to
enjoy the magnificent spectacle that lay unrolled before me.

I stood on the very summit of the southernmost of Snæfell's peaks.
The range of the eye extended over the whole island. By an optical
law which obtains at all great heights, the shores seemed raised and
the centre depressed. It seemed as if one of Helbesmer's raised maps
lay at my feet. I could see deep valleys intersecting each other in
every direction, precipices like low walls, lakes reduced to ponds,
rivers abbreviated into streams. On my right were numberless glaciers
and innumerable peaks, some plumed with feathery clouds of smoke. The
undulating surface of these endless mountains, crested with sheets of
snow, reminded one of a stormy sea. If I looked westward, there the
ocean lay spread out in all its magnificence, like a mere
continuation of those flock-like summits. The eye could hardly tell
where the snowy ridges ended and the foaming waves began.

I was thus steeped in the marvellous ecstasy which all high summits
develop in the mind; and now without giddiness, for I was beginning
to be accustomed to these sublime aspects of nature. My dazzled eyes
were bathed in the bright flood of the solar rays.